The Heebie Jeebies
by obeydontstray
Summary: (Revamped) Dean doesn't believe in Bray's heebie jeebie ghost stories. But either way, he still hates Louisiana. (One shot. Bits of possible Wybrose. I really like this one okay?)


Bray Wyatt stood in front of the double doors, absent-mindedly stroking his beard. He always loathed jails. Several places really, but any sort of law enforcement was at the top of his list. However, that didn't mean he couldn't be respectful. He took a moment to smooth some errant wrinkles in his hawaiian shirt before reaching for the door and letting himself into the cool lobby. A pretty little blonde with a high ponytail sat behind the desk, her boyish uniform betraying her feminine figure. At the sight of him her eyes widened for a moment, it was clear she didn't know how to read him. He put her at ease immediately with one of his most charming smiles.

"Hello darlin. I need to bail someone out, any way you could help me with that?" "Certainly. Who are you looking for?"

.

Dean Ambrose sat alone on a jail cell cot, his head in his hands. He knew he'd be in a lot of trouble after tonight but damn was socking that guy in the face worth it! His right eye stung, already turning purple and swelling. Not exactly a ready for tv face at the moment. He glanced down at his calloused knuckles and wondered how he always got himself in these scuffles. Wrong place, wrong time. A little too much whiskey in his system. An officer appeared at his door, a brown paper bag in hand.

"Get your stuff together, you're going home. Someone's here to pick you up." Dean sighed in relief. Good old Roman is here to save the day once again.

"Roman, my brother! You would not believe the night I've had!" He mused with his back towards the bars, threading his belt through his pants. He expected another lecture. Father figure Roman was always nagging about fighting outside in the ring. But sometimes you just gotta sock a guy to get your point across.

When he heard a low chuckle instead, he spun on his heels in surprise.

Bray Wyatt stood just outside the bars, his hands casually tucked into his pockets and the brim of his hat sitting low over his eyes.

"What do you want, you sonofabitch?"

Bray leaned towards the officer nearby, mumbling something that Dean couldn't quite hear. With that the officer left, leaving the two men alone with only bars between them. "Now there's no need for that kind of language Dean-o. Can't we talk this over like civil men?"

"What are you getting at, Wyatt?" Dean spat.

"Just figured I'd do my good deed for the day. Champ." Bray emphasized and Dean winced, trying to remember where he left the title belt this time.

"Where's Roman?" Normally he would be here by now. Had Bray and the boys done something to him?

"Will you act civilized and leave out of here with me, or should I leave you here?"

"Nah, get me out."

Bray stood still, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.

"Did ya hear me, Wyatt? Get me outta here."

Bray chuckled again, still unmoving. "Shouldn't you be asking nicely? I'm doing you a favor here, champ."

"Fuck you." Dean retorted, the effects of the alcohol slowly wearing away and making his head ache. "I didn't ask you to come here. You volunteered."

Bray moved closer to the bars, his big hands wrapping around them. "I'm doing you a favor here, kid. It would be wise of you to take it." He sneered, the brim of his hat obscuring his eyes completely.

"Leave me alone. Roman will be here soon enough."

"Roman's already left town. Most everyone left this morning. You picked the wrong night to get into a fight."

"What's your game here? You never do anything just because." Dean admitted he was concerned about a Wyatt bailing him out.

"You shouldn't be sitting here. I saw the fight at the bar. That guy deserved it, harassing that pretty little thing like he was. I was just about to step in when you did." Bray smiled broadly in the low light. "I let you defend her honor, but I was there to console her afterwards of course. You got the jail cell, I got her number."

Dean sighed wondering what girl in her right mind would give Bray Wyatt the time of day. Maybe it was a good thing he missed out on a thank you kiss. Bray signaled the officer and the door clicked open, granting Dean freedom.

.

Outside heat lightning popped in the muggy Louisiana night. Dean eyed it warily as he followed Bray to the car. He expected Bray to be driving something straight out of Jeepers Creepers, so the slick little compact shocked him. In the passenger seat sat his championship.

"If I were you..." Bray began as he climbed behind the wheel, "I'd keep a tighter hold on that belt. Too many people work too hard for it to he forgotten in a bar somewhere."

Dean shrugged, unaffected by the pointed statement. "I worked just as hard to have the right to carry it with me. So what's the deal here man? You think I owe you something now?"

A mischievous smile flashed across Bray's face momentarily. "Nah man. You don't owe me nothin. Like I said, just doing my good deed for the day. Do you believe in karma, Dean?"

The smaller man laughed, one hand on the championship and the other hanging out the window. "I don't believe in luck."

"It's not luck." Bray corrected him. "Whatever good you spread in life, it all comes back to you. You do a good deed, one will come back to you." He eyed Dean's championship briefly and Dean hugged it closer to him. Bray brought the car to a stop in front of the hotel they all had shared the night before. "Get your stuff but don't drag ass. If we leave now, we can be be in Jackson by the morning."

First his foe bails him out of jail and now they're going to travel together.

"Get to moving or I'll leave you right here, Ambrose."

.

Alone in the car Bray considers his situation. He couldn't really convince Ambrose why he picked him up because in reality, he had no real reason. He'd seen the fight happen and decided then that he'd bail the smaller man out. Not like he really hated Ambrose. In some twisted way he actually respects the guy.

Dean stomped back to the car, stopping to toss his suitcase and jacket in the back before climbing back into the passenger seat. Without a word, Bray pulled out of the parking lot and onto open highway. He lowered all four windows and let the warm night air rush through the car.

Dean fiddles with his cell phone, trying to find enough signal to text Roman. He wanted someone to know where he is, just in case Bray decided to turn on him. It was eerie, riding along the dark highway surrounded by trees, with Bray Wyatt as the only other living soul around. He wished like hell to see another pair of headlights.

"Spooky kind of night, isn't it?" Bray observed out loud, startling Dean from his thoughts. "It's a full moon."

"Whatever." Dean sneered and Bray continued. "I've seen some things out on these roads at night. Things I still can't explain."

"I don't believe in that heeby-jeeby stuff. You and your ghost stories don't scare me."

Bray smiled broadly, one hand on the wheel and the other hanging out the window. With one last ditch effort Dean holds his phone out of the window, hoping for a signal. He sighs in frustration, pulling his arm back inside the car and shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Too many trees around, you'll never get a signal out here."

"No shit Sherlock." Dean snapped, his arms folded across his chest.

Bray grins again and draws Dean's ire. "Am I funny to you?" He snaps and it draws a chuckle from Bray.

"I find you endlessly fascinating, Dean Ambrose."

Dean lacks a proper comeback for that one, so instead he leans into the larger man's personal space to fiddle with the radio dials. It's way too quiet out here. Bray hums along when he finds a Lynyrd Skynryd, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. Completely out of spite, he likes Skynyrd too, Dean flips the channels again until he finds Metallica. Bray side eyes him and grins again.

"I know Metallica too."

If he thought he could stand it himself, Dean would flip it to a rap station. But he settles for the Metallica and sinks back into his seat, propping his feet up on the dashboard and crossing his ankles.

.

Silence falls between the men in the car, each caught up in their own thoughts. Dean's still trying to figure out Bray's hand in all of this. There had to be an ulterior motive to their late night road trip together. He questions his own sanity for even getting in a car with Wyatt. He coulda just let the guy bail him out, blast him in the parking lot and make a run for it. Live to fight another day. Bray is a pretty fierce competitor inside the ring, but outside of it is a different story. There's too many alligators around. Too much swampland. And Dean knew instinctively that Bray could make him disappear out here if he wanted to. Well, he could try anyway. He still wondered where the rest of the Wyatt family could be hiding out. What if this is an ambush?

The car suddenly jolts to a stop, rousing Dean from his thoughts. "The fuck Wyatt?"

Bray's face is pale in the moonlight as he turns the key in the ignition several times, trying to start the engine back. "C'mon. Don't do this to me." Bray mutters, hitting the steering wheel with open palms.

"You've got to be kidding me." Dean exclaims. "Did it run hot or something?"

Bray bends forward in the seat, straining to read the gauges in the dark. "I don't think so. It just stopped."

"Tell me you know something about cars, Wyatt."

Bray shrugs in the darkness. "No. Luke's our family mechanic. How about you?"

"No." Dean admits, suddenly angry at himself for not being more of a car guy.

"Great." Dean added, noticing for the first time that they had stalled out in front of a cemetery.

"I thought you didn't believe in 'heeby-jeeby stuff', Dean." Bray chuckled.

"I was also taught not to disturb the dead, either. Whatever dead people decide to do is their own business."

Bray grins in the moonlight, instinctively running his hands through his hair. "Wise philosophy there, Poe."

"Who?" Dean asks.

"Never mind." Bray replies with a chuckle. "What do we do now?"

Dean reaches for his phone again and is aggravated when it still shows no signal.

Bray retrieves his own phone, raising it to the roof of the car. "No signal either. The last town was about 30 miles back. That's a lil far to hoof it."

"How far till the next town?" Dean asked, hopeful that maybe Bray knew the area.

"Got no idea, man. I don't know this road very well."

"Then why did you come this way?" Dean fumed.

"GPS said it was the quickest!" Bray retorted, trying to bring it up on his phone. Not enough signal for it either. "I guess we'll have to wait until someone comes by." Bray observed.

"But we haven't passed a car all night!" "You got a better suggestion?" Bray asked, turning to look at Dean.

"No. Can you at least put the windows up some?" He asked in a voice too small for him. "No. They're electric."

"Goddamn it!" Bray tries not to laugh as Dean sinks lower in his seat. "I wish we at least had the radio." Dean mumbled.

"Yeah, it's deathly quiet out here." Bray grinned to himself, amused at his own joke.

.

At least an hour passed before Bray slid the key back in the ignition. "C'mon..." He begged as he turned the key, but to no avail. The cicadas chirped around them, occasionally punctuated by the hoot of an owl. Dean sat motionless, his arms wrapped around his knees while he watched the heat lightning in the clouds. "C'mon, this is kinda like camping. Ever been camping Dean-o?"

"No." He snapped. "Never wanted to either."

"Are ya scared?" Bray taunted, smug in his superiority at being an outdoorsman. He grew up in the woods, an open road at night couldn't be that worrisome.

"No!" Dean snapped again, aggravated at the entire situation.

The bigger man shrugged out of his hawaiian shirt and tossed it in the back, leaving him in a black sleeveless shirt. Without the orange shirt he was harder to see, and for some reason he couldn't explain, that made Dean very nervous. Bray's stomach growled, startling the both of them and moving Bray to start rummaging through his suitcase in the back. When he offered half of a candy bar to Dean, the smaller man eyed him suspiciously. "What? I'm not trying to poison ya if I'm eating the same thing." Bray stated before popping a piece of chocolate in his mouth. "Might be the last thing we have to eat for quite a while."

Dean reached out and took the half he was offered. "Who travels with candy in their suitcase, anyway?"

"I can't find this kind of chocolate just anywhere. A taste of home, ya know?" Bray explained.

As Dean ate it worried him that Bray was being a bit too nice to him.

"I'm glad Erick's not here. The big guy is so scary. He'd be in pieces by now." Bray chuckled. "He could rip a man in half but mention a ghost and he makes himself scarce. I'm glad you're not the scaredy cat type Dean."

Dean watched the cemetery in his peripheral vision, not brave enough to turn and look at it head on. "Me? Scared? Yeah right!"

Bray sat up suddenly. "You know, we might have a chance at finding a signal in the cemetery. There's not many trees over there."

"The hell with that, I'm not getting out of the car." Dean replied as Bray fished for his phone in his pocket.

"I don't care as long as my phone works." Bray replied as he climbed out of the car and headed towards the cemetery. Dean watched him until he disappeared, his dark clothes blending into the darkness.

.

Desperate to get off the road, Dean felt around the driver's seat for the keys. He'd try the engine again while Bray wandered around in the dark. He felt the dashboard, the seat, under the seat, in the ignition without luck. Bray must have taken the keys with him. Dean sunk back into his seat in defeat. No phone, no keys, no Bray. The silence is too much. He watched fireflies dance in the woods nearby, feeling a little bit better than he had before. He glanced down at his phone. Bray had been gone thirty minutes already. What's taking him so long? Either it's going to work or not. He squinted at the cemetery, looking for any sign of the other man. Everything was too quiet, too still for Dean's liking. He never thought he'd miss Bray Wyatt. Everything about this night had been all wrong. He wished Bray had left him in that cell. Hell, he wished he hadn't been in that bar to start with. He'd probably be in Jackson with Roman right now. Asleep in a hotel bed nice and safe.

He spotted a faint blue light in the cemetery and he squinted again, hoping it was Bray's phone. The light moved erratically, illuminating one gravestone then another, then another.

When the driver door opened suddenly Dean yelled, throwing his fists up and readying himself for a fight. He could make out Bray's grin, his face slightly illuminated by his phone. Dean turned in his seat quickly, watching the blue light still dancing through the graveyard. As Bray slid into the driver's seat Dean grabbed a fistful of his shirt, dragging him across the car.

"Look!"

Bray stared at the graveyard but by then the light had faded out. "What?" Bray asks, laying across Dean's lap where the smaller man had lead him.

"I thought it was you, but you're here..."

"Scared of the lightning bugs, Dean-o?"

Dean huffed, shoving Bray off of him. "I've never seen a blue lightning bug!"

Bray chuckled to himself as he righted himself in his seat, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "No luck. No signal at all."

"Where's the keys, Bray? Try the engine again. Please." Dean's voice was strained, much to Bray's enjoyment.

"Where are the keys?" Bray asked and Dean's eyes widened in the moonlight.

"I thought you had them! Please tell me you didn't loose the keys!" His eyes darted back to the cemetery.

"Ah, got 'em!" Bray sighed as he reached in the back seat, retrieving the keys from on top of Dean's suitcase. He pushed the key into the ignition and turned, making Dean sigh when nothing happened.

"This is the worst night of my life." Dean fumed. "You should have left me in that cell."

"Then I wouldn't be stuck out here with you!" Bray quipped and Dean punched his shoulder.

"This is all your fault."

Bray shrugged again as Dean turned his attention back to the cemetery. "Things happen. Even I have bad luck sometimes."

"What about all your karma bullshit?" Dean asked.

"Well, it's not an immediate kind of return." Bray drew in a breath, readying the key for the ignition again.

.

Dean spotted the light in the cemetery again and grabbed at Bray's arm, pointing it out to the other man.

"Ah that's just the Fifolet. It's trying to show you where to find pirate treasure."

Dean gripped his upper arm tighter. "Look at the way it's moving, man!"

"It won't hurt you. There's swamp bordering that whole cemetery. Really, it's just swamp gas." He turned the key again and the tiny car roared back to life. The radio came back to life, John Fogerty wailing about a Sinister Purpose.

"Get me the fuck out of here!" Dean demanded, still not relinquishing his grip on Bray's arm. When the light began moving towards his door Dean nearly jumped into Bray's lap.

As they sped away, the light followed. Dean fumbled with the switches on the door, triple locking the doors and putting his window up. "Put the windows up!" He shouted as Bray grinned but did as he was told.

"It's not going to hurt you."

"I don't wanna hang out to find out! Swamp gas my ass, that's something evil!" Dean glanced at his side mirror again, breathing a sigh of relief when the light stopped in the middle of the road, shrinking in size as they drove away.

"I promise. It won't hurt you. I seen it all the time growing up. I never did find the treasure though." Bray said, trying his best to calm the smaller man who still had a grip on his bicep. Dean held onto him until they saw the lights of the next town. He crossed his arms over his chest then, trying hard to retain any shred of his tough guy image. If Bray ever spoke word of this, he'd kill him dead.

.

"Wanna stop here for the night? We can leave early in the morning and make Jackson before Raw starts."

"Whatever." Dean mumbled, hiding behind his title belt like a safety blanket.

When Bray enquired about two rooms, the manager informed him that there was only one room vacant. A single bed room. He sighed and passed over the cash and thanked the gentleman before reaching down to grab his suitcase.

"Hey, is your friend okay? He's as white as a sheet." The manager enquired and Bray chuckled. "He just had his first encounter with the Fifolet. But he doesn't believe in that kinda stuff." The manager smirked and passed Bray the key.

Dean protested, of course, when he figured out that they had to share a room. And he was even more upset when he found out they had to share a bed. But after all of the excitement of the night he kicked off his shoes, placed the belt on the dresser, and sunk into the bed without much protest. Bray kicked off his shoes as well, tossing his hat in a nearby chair before stretching out himself.

"What exactly is a Fifolet?" Dean asked, his voice already deeper with sleepiness. Bray folded his hands under his head.

"Legend is that pirates would kill one of their men and bury him with the treasure. To protect it. So that man's spirit becomes a Fifolet, and where the light hovers is where the treasure is buried."

"Sounds pretty stupid." Dean quipped, making Bray smile. Dean rolled over, turning his back to Bray, but still making sure he lay against the bigger man's side. Bray lay there, still smiling broadly. Of course he knew that highway, and he knew that cemetery well. The Fifolet sighting was real, but Dean will never know that the car trouble wasn't. So much for not being scared of 'heeby-jeeby stuff'.

"I hate Louisiana." Dean mumbled before drifting off to sleep.


End file.
